


Assassin's Creed Anthropomorphization

by AndrastesMercy



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Abstergo Industries, Animus, Anthropomorphization, Assassins, Assassins vs. Templars, F/M, Lance of Longinus, Other, Templar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrastesMercy/pseuds/AndrastesMercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if everything you knew about both, Assasins and Templars was a lie ?<br/>What if the secret war between them was for comletely different goals?<br/>And what if it didn't matter which side you where on ?</p><p>This is an AU story that explores what could have happened, if Desmond hadn't died. It is based on AssassinsCreed Apotheosis, a great fiction by Shadow chaser and starts after the events of the later took place.<br/>So feel free to read the original fiction before (it isn't necessary to understand the plot though).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. View Point

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Assassin's Creed Apotheosis](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/214483) by Shadow Chaser. 



Lucy hung up the phone, a bitter taste in her mouth. It was better this way, she knew that.  
But it still hurt to think about it.  
Yes, she had told Altair they where happy, but only to prevent him from coming. If she had  
told him everything the arabic Assassin`s pride wouldn`t have allowed him to stay  
wherever he was now. If she had told him about Desmonds strange activities, about his  
brief moments of clarity, he would have come immetiately because he, no, the world owed  
Desmond so much, even if only a few people where aware of it.  
She admired him for the brave sacrifice he had made, was even proud of him, but at the  
same time she also mourned for what he had lost.  
It was true that the last few months went smoothly and it was also true that they where  
finally free to love each other the way THEY wanted to, being no longer limited by his  
mission or the bleeding. But still Lucy couldn`t love this Desmond as much as she should  
have.  
Something was missing.  
She saw it in Desmonds eyes, this hearthbreaking emptiness that consumed the former  
Assassin. It was something she would never live up to, something that would always  
accompany him and wich only disappeared in the few moments he seemed to  
REMEMBER.  


________________________________________________________________

Since a few weeks his muscle memory was fully back and he was allowed to wander the  
streets. He – Desmond Miles – the name still ment nothing to him. He knew he had lived a  
life before this accident Lucy had told him about. Lucy – he knew absolutely nothing about  
this woman exept how mad he was in love with her. But still she seemed somehow calm,  
collected. She was always there for him. She was his anchor...  
„I will catch you, if you fall.“  
He shook his head. The doctor told him, that he`d most likely never regain all of his  
memories but he had those flashbacks for a few weeks now and he guessed – no – he  
was shure it where bits and pieces of memories.  
They appeared when he slept or in times like this, when he sat on top of a high building  
and thought about his life.  
He had noticed this desire to climb high places shortly after they came to chicago. He first  
ignored it, somehow knowing that it wasn`t appropiate to climb buildings in this time and  
age but after a few days the urge became so penetrant he had to give into it.  
And he climbed.  
Up to the roofs of the highest skyscrapers in town. The view was overwhelming but the  
view wasn`t as important to him as the calm and the clarity he felt up here. It felt right to be  
up in the clouds, to look down at the crowds of people like an eagle picking out his prey.  
As he concentrated on a man in his mid-fifties who was talking to a receptionist in a hotel  
across the street his vision suddenly flickered into a blue hue.  
Everything that wasn`t important, like the buildings, the crowds or even the cars turned to  
a muted grey. But not the man and, as he now was able to see, woman, he was talking to.  
But while the man turned yellow the woman sparkled in a blue color wich he was somehow  
relieved to see.  
Was it normal to see things this way ? He followed the man with his gaze as he made his  
way across te street to a coffe shop.  
Somehow Desmond knew the man was important but he wondered why ?  
He didn`t knew him – Did he ?  
Curious whether or not the man would recognize him he made his way down  
to the shop too.  
On his way downwards he started to wonder, why he was even able to climb this good and  
if he had been a cragsman, why didn`t Lucy tell him ?  
Beeing an extreme athlet certainly would explain all of the bruises and scars he had – But  
why shouldn`t Lucy tell him at least that ? Was she afraid that he could get injured again or  
was it something else...something dark she couldn`t talk about even if she wanted to...  
He shook his head and laughed a bitter bark. After all it wasn`t like he was James Bond or  
someone like that – A Spezial Agent with the mission to save the world.  
But why did he feel like something was wrong then. Why did he know that he wasn`t just  
an ordinary adrenaline junky ?  
________________________________________________________________________  
Bill Miles had just arrived in Chicago when Altair had called. He wanted him to check on  
Desmond when meetig his contact here. Of all people it was Altair, the cold Bastard, who  
called him to remind him of his „fatherly duties“, who told him to check on his son – This  
idiot he loved so much, he was so proud of, but could neither meet nor tell him, because  
he had sacrificed all of his memories to this damned piece of eden to save the whole  
world.  
He knew that now that Desmond didn`t remembered he could use his chance and start a  
new, but with all the things he had done to his own son, his own flesh and blood, he did not  
deserve this chance.  
And now, after just a few months that he and Desmond had needed to recover from their  
injuries, this fucking bastard digged into the open wound again.  
Angry as he was he decided to first meet his contact and went to the meeting point, the  
reception of a hotel near the airport.  
There he talked to the receptionist, a young lady that belonged to the order and was on an  
undercover mission here in Chicago, but she told him his contact hadn`t arrived yet, so he  
decided to go to the little coffee shop across the street. He was just about to head in as he  
noticed a movement ontop of the building.  
He wondered.  
Was it his contact, an Assassin – or a Templar ?  
He knew he should have checked the roofstops first, but in his anger at Altair he had  
completely forgotten about that. „Shit!“, he cursed. Such a mistake could be rsponsible for  
a whole mission to fail. He felt like a novice again, having been told to check the rooftops a  
thousand times, but still failing to do it.  
„Fuck! Be damned Altair, you and your arrogance!“, he cursed again. Then he headed  
towards th building, towards his „enemy“.  
But the second he reached the door to the building he noticed a man running down the  
stairs taking four at a time, his hood reaching deep into his face making him unable to see  
his eyes.  
Somehow the man felt familiar to him but he couldn`t quite guess from where.  
Unshure wheter the other man was friend or foe he flickered into his eagle vision just to  
see the other man as a bright white, brighter than the sun.  
Blinded he flickered into his normal vision again.  
What was that ? Who is that ?  
He had never seen anything eerily similar to this in his eagle vision before.  
He was completely absorbed in his confused thoughts until he finally noticed, that the  
other man had slowed down but was still walking towards him.  
First he had to get away from „it“, he thought. He could later contact Altair or – since he  
was still angry with him – Ezio what this pheomenom could mean.  
He turned and ran, anger and fear fueling him, pushing him to his limits and beyond while  
only one thought stayed in his mind:

### To find out who or what was able to disable his eagle sense.

________________________________________________________________


	2. Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone has to pass out in order for our favourite characters to reunite.

As Desmond arrived at the Lobby, he switched to his....err....“eagle vision“ a nearly muted voice deep in his mind provided him and noticed that the yellow colored man was standing in front of the building and staring in his direction.  
He lowered his pace until he was walking and his fingers automatically started to search for the trigger of.... Of What ?  
He only whore a white hoody and, because his left arm had felt too light and somehow „empty“, a huge leather-charm.  
What did belong there ?  
Was it that important, that even with his memories gone it was still „missing“ ?  
And again, why hadn't Lucy at least told him something about THAT ?  
When he lifted his head again, the yellow man was gone.

„Shit“, he cursed and kicked against the elevator doors next to him.  
Somehow he knew that the other man was IMPORTANT, that this yellow glow meant something, but his stupid brain was acting dumb again, not willing to grant him access to his own memories.

„You better provide good answers Lucy!“, he growled and headed out of the building – towards „home“.

 

When he arrived at the little Kiosk, Lucy worked in since they had moved to Chicago, the women had just finished sorting in the new products.  
She looked pale and somehow harried. Seeing her this way immediately made Desmond forget about his own problems. Now he wanted nothing more than to hold Lucy in his arms and to tell her, that everything was okay, that they could solve everything together, just like she had done so many times before, when the emptiness of his mind had brought him to his knees.

But just as he was near enough for her to hear him, a young man made his way towards the Kiosk.  
As he saw the man approaching Lucy, a hand in his pocket and a hood over his face, scuffing his feet, all of his instincts shouted at him that this man was dangerous – that he had to protect Lucy.

He flickered into his „eagle vision“ again and saw the man colored in a bright red.  
So his instincts had been right. The man was hostile to him and Lucy.  
As the man got closer, he pulled something out of his right pocket, but with all that red it was hard to see, what „it“ was. So he switched back to his „normal vision“? Again and immediately saw, what the stranger had been doing.

„It“ was a P9 and the other man was pointing it directly at Lucy's head.  
He had only time to wonder, why the hell he did know so much about firearms, until his sharpened senses caught the words the stranger spoke:  
„Now that's a sweet Lady here. Is there no husband around, to save you from this misery ? It's a shame, to let such a beauty work on such a dodgy neighborhood without proper protection. She could be robbed … or worse.“ The other man grinned, showing his blackened teeth, one lonely gold tooth shining between them.  
„So why don't you just hand me over all your money, so I can store it for you ?“  
When Lucy didn't react, he got harsher: „Hand me the goddamn money, or I'll shoot you, you dirty slut!“

Still Lucy did not move even an inch. She just slowly opened her mouth to speak. But just as she was about to say: „No-“, he had already pulled one of his trowing knifes out of the little case, that was embedded into the lining of his backpack, and threw it at the man.  
It hit him directly into his hand, leaving him no choice, but to drop his gun.  
His second knife hit the stranger right between his eyes and the man collapsed under the lethal blow and fell to the ground.

„Requiescat in pace, you Bastard!“, where the last words Desmond was able to form, when a burning pain erupted in his head and he too collapsed and fell unconscious.

 

Shocked Lucy stared at the man, that was now lying before her, still holding her own gun in her hands, ready to shoot.

Just as she had been about to shoot the criminal had all but collapsed to the ground, an Assassin trowing knife stuck between his eyes.  
Just then she realized a movement at the edge of her vision. She turned, her gun ready, in case the man had a partner in crime, but instead she faced Desmond, his right arm still extended after throwing the knife, his lips forming silent words she could not understand, before passing out.  
„No“, was all she could say. Already the first tears were rolling down her cheeks. „I thought it was finally over...“  
Unable to do anything but staring on the two bodies, she started to tremble. Why did it have to start all over again ? Did they not deserve a little bit of a rest ? Now she was really crying, tears falling down onto the fresh baked bread she had made for dinner.

Suddenly, fuzzy through her blur of tears, she noticed someone running towards her.  
She wiped them away - she had to be strong. There would be questions and...  
As she looked towards the stranger, running towards her, she recognized, that of all people, it was Bill Miles who was running towards her.  
Incredible relieved, she almost started to cry again, but instead she hurried towards him.

Bill was unbelievable. He did not even ask what had happened. He just silently helped her carrying Desmond into their bedroom on the second floor of the same house, the Kiosk was in.  
Having seen the Assassin trowing knife, he also suggested to replace it with a normal knife and get rid of the corpse.  
So they loaded the remnants of the robber in spe onto his Pick Up and sunk it in the nearby Chicago River, where the authorities probably wouldn't notice it until the next  
St. Patrick's Day.

As everything was taken care of, Bill and her returned to her flat above the little Kiosk and literally fell on the sofa.

After a few minutes of silence she spoke up: „What are you even doing here, Bill ?“  
It sounded sharper than she had meant and she bit her lip, waiting for Bills response.  
„Altair sent me.“, Desmond's Father replied as calm and collected as usual,  
but Lucy knew him better than that.  
She felt, that something was bothering the older Assassin. And as usual it was something else, something apart from today's „event“.  
But that wasn't important at the moment. All that counted now was Desmond. 

„Speaking of which,“ she replied. „ Do you have any possibility to contact him at the moment ?“ She didn't want to involve the arabic Master Assassin in this again, not after all the years he had served the order with his immortal life. But he and Ezio where the only ones she could trust at the moment.  
And on top of that Altair knew more about the pieces of Eden than anyone else.

„I already contacted him.“, Bill replied, pointing to his ear.  
Lucy wondered, why the two of them had a dedicated line but then decided, that this too would have to wait.  
„And what does he say ?“, she asked, assuming that she already knew the answer.  
„He will come.“, the other man sighed. „Actually he already is here in Chicago since a few days now and if he doesn't get into the Rush Hour, he will arrive any second.“

Just as Bill had finished, the doorbell rang.  
Lucy shot a anxious look at Bill, but the older Assassin only nodded, having confirmed, that it was indeed Altair who was desiring to enter.  
She pressed the button to open the outer door and went to the entrance of the flat. As she opened the door, she directly looked up into Altair's stern golden eyes and somehow she was so relieved to see the arabic Assassin, that she instinctively hugged him.

Surprised Altair let it happen and just looked at her.  
When she finally pulled away, the other man softly touched her shoulder, the most distinct act of condolence, Altair had ever shown in her presence.

 

As Altair stepped into the flat, that Lucy and Desmond lived in since the young Assassin had gotten out of Hospital, he saw Lucy standing in front of him, pale, looking as if she just had wept and a calm, collected, yet concerned Bill sitting on an old, cuddly sofa.  
Then Lucy suddenly hugged him tight. He let it happen, knowing what the young woman was going through.

He knew what had happened, having been able to hear everything over Bills earpiece, but it still shocked the Assassin to see Desmond's love in such a state.  
She must really love him from the bottom of her heart, he thought, remembering his own wife Maria he had lost so long ago.  
He frowned.  
There was no place for thoughts like this. Not when lives where at stake.

 

When Lucy finally pulled away, he turned his head towards Bill, absently padding the young woman's shoulder.  
„How is he now ?“, he asked quietly.  
„Same as two hours ago.“, Bill replied, looking at his watch.  
„May I see him ?“, Altair asked politely, not sure if he even wanted to see Desmond unconscious again – Like so many times before.  
He loved the man like a son, even if he would never admit it. Other than Ezio he was no one to show his feelings.  
„Of course.“, Lucy replied, doting towards the door to his left. „He's in the bedroom.“  
Afraid of the sight that would wait for him, the former Assassin-Leader walked over and opened the door to the darkened room.

Desmond was lying on the side of the bed which was closer to him, his breast heaving ever so slight, most people would think he was dead.  
Altair closed the door and walked a few steps closer until he was standing directly at the bed's side.  
He stared at the young Assassin that remembered him so much of his son, Darim.  
Even though he had sworn himself never to express feelings again, he had to swallow hard at the sight of his former „apprentice“, guilt overwhelming him.  
„I should have been the one to end this war.“, he said faintly. „I should have taken this damned map and destroyed all the pieces all this time ago, but my arrogance again kept me from doing the right thing.“  
A lonely tear rolled down his cheek and over the scar on his lip.  
He licked it away and felt the salty taste clear his mind a bit.  
Grief and sorrow would not take him anywhere. He had to do something.  
Even though he was sure, Bill had already seen to that, he checked the young mans vitals and tested his reactions, but everything was normal.  
Whatever had made the Assassin pass out, it was most likely not a physical injury.  
And that was what scared Altair to his bones.  
The symptoms Desmond was showing now, where the same ones he had showed when the Lance had ripped his memories from him.  
But the Lance was gone, destroyed along with all the other pieces of Eden. Desmond himself had destroyed them all, so  


### how could the Lance still possess him ?


	3. Animus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which will be retained what once was lost and the path for our heroes will be determined.

When Desmond awoke the white lines and blue hues of the Animus surrounded him.  
Lines of what ?  
He rubbed the bridge of his nose,   
a habit he had developed after living through Altair's memories.  
Wait – Whose memories ?  
He shook his head, still confused, trying to shake this muted feeling away   
that was blocking him from thinking.   
He had to shove the mental clouds away somehow.  
But it didn't work out, so he angrily glared at the white lines instead,   
as if they where to blame for his current state...

„If you want to blame someone, then blame me.“,   
a foreign voice ripped him out of his thoughts like cold water.   
But the voice itself did not show a hint of cold.   
It was the warm, calm voice, that Desmond remembered from somewhere,   
but couldn't quite place from where,   
the mental clouds still blocking him from accessing his memories.  
„Who are you ?“, he replied, still wary of what this mysterious,   
glowing „women“ of sorts was up to.

„Use your eagle sense.“, a quiet murmur out of the corners of his mind suggested.  
And so he did, just to see the woman – no – Minerva, he – remembered ?   
glowing in a bright white, sometimes flickering to an even brighter yellow.  
At least she is not an enemy he thought, letting his vision fade back to normal.  
But this bright white wasn't normal as one of his ancestors, most likely Altair, told him.  
Ancestors ?  
Altair ?  
He shook his head again.  
He needed to stay in this time and age, he had to control the bleeding or he'd bleed out.  
Bleed out ?

His confused thoughts where interrupted by Minerva, speaking up again:  
„I don't have much time, and you don't have much left either,   
so I need you to listen carefully to what I say and to decide quickly.“   
Desmond just nodded, completely overwhelmed by the sheer power Minerva exuded.  
„So far so good...“she mumbled. „Of course, you don't know me anymore and I'm afraid,   
I won't be able to explain everything that happened between us until know in such a short time,   
so I'll keep this brief.“  
She cleared her throat.  
„But there's one thing I have to tell you, even if you won't understand it right now.   
I'm sorry Desmond. I'm sorry for making you carry such a burden,   
for letting you make such immense sacrifices.  
I knew, that it would be hard for you, that you'd need to make difficult decisions,   
that you could even die on that dangerous path I made you walk.  
And despite knowing all that, I still loaded this burden onto you.  
I'm sorry for that, but I don't regret it. I don't regret it because back then,   
it had been the only way to save your race – your world, but...“ she trailed off,   
then took a deep breath and continued: „...but what I do regret is that I lost my sanity back there.   
I had been trapped in that Piece of Eden for so long, the only way for me to keep myself „intact“,   
was to focus on the strongest emotion I felt at that moment.  
So I focused on my rage, on my despair, my hatred.  
But it consumed me Desmond, just as it had consumed Zeus, Juno and all the others.  
I was – I am no better than they are.“

He did not understand a word the alien women said,   
but he somehow felt like this was important.   
It meant something, if not to him, then certainly to the stranger before him.  
She was relieved to finally voice all that aloud, he could see it.  
Then, once again she trailed off, as if she wasn't sure how to continue.  
When she spoke up again, her voice was even more grave than before.  
„Because of my incompetence, I'll need to call on your services again.  
If I had ended this war myself it needn't come down to you to solve   
all the misery we left behind again.  
I need you to stop a now senseless war and destroy yet another artifact   
that could bring another war upon mankind,   
refueling the conflict between Assassins and Templars.  
But to be able to complete that mission,   
you need to have full control of all of your ancestors memories,   
and most important, your own.  
And again I have to apologize – Because, in my rage, in my fury for the whole world,   
I ripped them from you.“  
She squared her shoulders.  
„However, if you accept this mission, I'll give you back all I took from you and more.  
If we succeed, you'll be able to access your ancestors memories just how you did it   
back in the animus.   
You'll even be able to gain control of the bleeding effect,  
just as you already managed when you encountered Daniel Cross.“

Desmond just stared at the women in front of him, unable to say a word.  
The things Minerva had talked about made no sense to him,   
but then again what she offered was like a gift from heaven.  
He knew, he should at least be suspicious if not downright troubled by the things she said,   
but somehow he felt like he could trust the alien presence before him.

„But we will need some time to accomplish that. Tonight we'll only be able to go through the lives   
of the ones you have experienced before, because you are already synched up to them.   
But this time, with a little help of the world wide web and some first civilization technology,   
we will be able to go through their entire lifespan.  
Since at least in Altairs and Ezios cases that means that there are a lot of unexperienced memories yet to discover,   
I'd rather get to the point right now.“  
She coughed once.  
„Now Desmond, will you accept this mission, regain all of your lost memories, explore the remaining,   
become the leader of the Assassins and end this war once and for all ?“

Desmond's fuzzy head suddenly started to get calm and silent at the question Minerva asked.   
How far was he willing to go for his memories ? Did he even want to know who or what he was ?  
And finally. Why did he believe every single word that came out of that strange women's mouth ?   
It was absurd and no sane person would believe any of it, but then again,   
he couldn't be considered sane, could he ?  
Either way, the answers he wanted, the answers he needed where buried deep inside his memories,   
unaccessible for him.  
At least they where without help.  
„I'll accept.“ Desmond answered, surprised how calm his voice was.   
He wanted this. He was sure of it. He would do anything to be himself again.  
„Then we should start immediately.“ Minerva smiled, looking incredible relieved and,  
if Desmond read her expression correctly, somewhat proud.


	4. A new dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which is way too happy.

After Altair had come out of Desmond's room,  
Bill had given him a brief report on Desmond's condition,  
confirming his assumption of Desmond  
showing symptoms of being possessed by the Lance  
again.

While he and Bill had seemingly come to the same conclusion  
and the other man seemed as composed and sober as if he had  
known that all along – and if the Master Assassin had to guess,  
he'd definitely think he had known – Lucy stared at them,  
as if they had just revealed to her, that her beloved would die.  
She got even paler than she had been and her hands started shaking again,  
though she tried to hide it by clenching them into fists.  
He had never seen her this rattled,  
not even when he had stabbed Desmond while he had been  
possessed by the Apple.  
But he understood the young women.  
If Desmond was still possessed by the Lance,  
even if it was destroyed, he may be better off dead.  
„Lucy-“ Bill started, but the young women only shook her head and left,  
entering the same room, he himself had just emerged from.

„How is his true condition now ?“, he asked, after the door had closed behind Lucy,  
knowing that Bill had massaged the facts in consideration of the  
young women's feelings for Desmond.  
„Better than after the complete memory loss, but worse than when he lost Ezios.“ Bill answered brusquely.  
He didn't want to talk about it.  
He was always that way when something unsettled him,  
always keeping his worries to himself until the immediate problems where solved.  
In that, they where just too similar. Father and son indeed.

„Will you take care of him if things go south ?“ Bill whispered, his voice shaking a little.  
„I'm not sure I would be able to – you know – after all, he is my son -“  
Surprised by his sudden request, he blinked.  
So that grumpy old man had feelings after all.  
„I know Bill and I will keep the promise I made to your son. I will give him a nice,  
clean death. I don't want to do that either, but if things go south, I'll do it...“  
Surprised and a little angry Altair noticed, that his own voice was trembling a little  
as he repeated his vow in front of the other Assassin.  
„You really do love him, do you?“ Bill asked quietly and the arabic Assassin saw his eyes soften  
for the first time since he knew this man.  
„I do.“ He replied, his answer nearly too quiet to hear,  
but Bill understood nonetheless, surprise glimmering up in his blue eyes  
at this sudden confession of affection.

Falling silent again they both sat there waiting for the sun to rise again, waiting for a new day that could bring anything.

* * *

When Lucy entered the room, the first thing she noticed was, that Desmond had shifted in his bed and his blanket now exposed most of his bare upper body, strong muscles defining his shape.  
Then his scars attracted her attention, silent witnesses of all the fights he had fought for the order, for her, even for his father he had hated so much.  
They spread all over his body, leaving nothing unscathed, but the most striking ones where the ones on his lip, which he had gained from a motorcycle accident and the one, where Altair had stabbed him into his stomach while he had tried to destroy the Apple.

But between all those old scars she also found some new ones, along with fresh bruises that couldn't be older than a few days.  
What the hell had he been doing out there, during the times he had been wandering the city ? Why had she even let him go out alone ?

She had known something was wrong since she had seen his fingers absently searching for the trigger of the bracer that contained his hidden blade.  
Why had she ignored that ?

Was she so selfish that she did not want to risk her own happiness to prevent Desmond, the man she loved so much she even shifted her loyalties from Templars to Assassins, from light to shadows, from control to freedom for, from this ?

She loved him with her entire being, so why had she ignored the signs, even when they where so clearly visible ?

She shook her head. She didn't know.  
Maybe she would never know, she thought.

„But why....“ She whispered and looked out of the window watching the sun rise again as if nothing had happened and everything was perfectly fine.

 

Suddenly she noticed the hand she had held move a little and glanced down at Desmond. Her gaze met his and she saw that his eyes where a bright golden again.  
But not just that.  
They where alive, the emptiness she had seen in them so often during the last months was gone.  
Instead they shone with life and what she could only describe as fire burning inside them.

She was incredibly relieved.  
Tears started running down her cheeks again, but this time she didn't care.  
Her beloved, now fully awake, reached out and caressed her cheek with one hand, while he wrapped his other arm around her.  
„There's no need to cry Lucy. I'm all yours. You caught me again.“ He whispered sweetly while softly wiping her tears away.  
„No, you held me the entire time Desmond...“ Lucy replied, incredibly thankful for the gift she had been granted.  
„I wouldn't be able to live without you. You are my love and my life.“  
„I'd never be able to leave you...“ Desmond replied, his voice still a little shaky, then he softly kissed her.

 

And they sat there, their arms wrapped around each other, watching the sun rise, waiting for the new day to begin.


	5. Friend or Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which features a little (very, very small) fighting scene.

When the sun had fully risen, Desmond loosened his grip around Lucys waist.  
„We shouldn`t let Bill and Altair wait any longer...“  
„You`re right.“ Lucy replied, but he saw the same reluctance in her expression that he felt  
at leaving their comfortable togetherness.  
„Will you explain ?“ She asked, her eyes still sparkling with love and joy.  
„It is too early for that, but I will explain part of it.“  
„I`ll be by your side.“  
Together they stood up and he opened the door, just to see both, Altair and Bill, jump in  
suprise. He enjoyed the sight of the two startled Master Assassins for a moment, then he  
walked into the living room, still holding Lucys hand in his own.  
Teasingly he shot a glance at his father who was looking calm and collected again – too  
soon for his taste – and said: „Well, well, who have we here...“ He touched his chin with his  
free hand, pretending he had a hard time remembering the man.  
Finally he allowed a predatory grin to appear on his face.  
„We have a lot to talk about father.“ He winked at Bill.“How dare you to just pretend to be  
dead.“  
His grin became a laugh as he saw his fathers jaw drop and both Assassins stared at him.  
Even Altair seemed to be busy keeping his usual mask of disinterest up.  
„Hey, don`t stare at me like that. After all it`s not as if I stood up from the dead like old Bill  
here.“  
„But how-“ Bill started. „Why-? How much-?“  
But Desmond cut in: „I don`t fully understand it myself, but it seems that Minerva has come  
to her senses again – And then decided that there was still need for me.“ He shrugged, not  
shure, how and how much he should try to explain to them.  
„Minerva ?“ Altair wondered. „I thought she had been sealed in the Lance...“  
„So did I.“ Desmond replied, noting the tension in the other mans stand. „But it seems  
Minerva was a lot wiser than the others. She left another prophecy, along with instructions  
and a mission. It was similar to what Ezio encountered in the vatican vault, but this time  
she directly adressed me. She knew, that she`d get insane beeing caught in the Lance, so  
she decided to leave me another message and to lend me a certain amount of power to  
carry out the mission.“  
„What kind of power do you refer to ?“, Bill asked.  
„The same powers they forged into their pieces of eden. To be precise, I`m now  
possessing similar powers to the ones the Animus used.“  
„Does that mean, that you are a piece of eden now ?“ Altair asked, now dangerously quiet,  
having switched to arabic.  
He could feel that the other Assassin was ready to launch a lethal blow at him, but he did  
not care. He knew him now, better than he knew himself.  
He concentrated on Altairs presence within his mind and let his whole being bleed into  
him, not the young Altair, he had expierienced through the Animus at Abstergo, but the  
immortal one he had encountered in this time and age.  
He stared at the other man with the same too old eyes he showed sometimes when he  
thought no one would notice and answered in fluid arabic: „Yes-“  
The split second after he had spoken the word, Altair already was at his throath, but he  
had seen this move coming and countered with one of Altairs own ones. He threw him into  
the sofa next to Bill, who just sat there, seemingly shocked by their sudden outburst.  
But the other Assassin immidiately got up and launched a second blow, this time using  
both of his blades in a slightly left turning blow, that would have been lethal, if it had hit  
him, but again, Desmond knew where Altair would strike and grabbed the other mans arms  
in mid air.  
He twisted them behind his rear and brought Altair to his knees with his back towards him.  
„May you first let me finish my sentence, Novice ?“ He imitated Maliks tone perfectly.  
„I wanted to say: Yes - and no.“  
The other Assassin still tried to escape his grip, but Desmond just extended the pressure  
on his arms until they nearly broke and continued: „I`m no piece of Eden, if you define it by  
possession and there are no ancient souls sealed away in me either. Minerva isn`t caged  
inside my head. It´s rather like I am able to contact her by radio or something like that. I  
can`t quite explain it, but it is the closest explanation I can think of.“  
He sighed.  
„However, I am a piece of eden if you think, beeing able to explore memories like in the  
Animus makes me one and I am a piece of eden when it comes to immortality. But you are  
immortal too, so don`t even think of blaming me for that.“  
He looked down at the older Assassin, knowing that what he had just said had hit a sore  
spot.  
„I am not immortal anymore, Desmond.“ The other man replied, his teeth bared in pain  
from the pressure on his arms.  
„You are and I will explain, but can I release you without getting stabbed again?“  
Altair let out a bitter laugh.  
„Yes, you can, but after you`re finished with your explanations, I won`t guarantee  
anything.“  
„That`s fine with me.“ Desmond replied and let go of the other mans arms.  
Altair slowly circled his shoulders to regain the feeling in his arms and sat down onto the  
sofa once more.  
Desmond also took a seat at the chair at the other side of the table and clapped onto his  
knees to invite Lucy to sit in his lap.  
She silently accepted his offer and he wrapped her arms around her like he had done just  
a few minutes ago when they had still been in bed.  
„You are still immortal for the same reason I was still bleeding after the animus was  
destroyed. Their effects aren`t reversible, because, with the exception of the Lance which  
was solely created to destroy the original artefacts, they where supposed to lend their  
wielder near unlimited power and that power remains, even after the regarding artefact  
was destroyed.“ He knew that what he had just said pained the other man, who had lived  
so long, hoping to finish his final mission and then, to finally die and he was sorry about  
that. But it had to be said. He pinched the bridge of his nose.  
„Makes sense.“ Came the dry reply from Bill, who was now starting to look anything but  
curious.  
„And what is this so called „need“ Minerva talked about ?“ Altair asked, in opposition to Bill  
looking more stern and neutral than ever.  
„She want`s you and Ezio to train me, so I may become the head of today`s Assassins and  
end the now senseless war between them and the Templars.“  
„Now that`s interesting. Since we`ve all just witnessed that you are already more skilled  
than I am.“ The arabic Assassin laughed sardonicly.  
„I doubt that there`s anything left for me to teach you, now that you have access to the  
memories of my entire life.“ The other man shook his head in amusement of his seemingly  
ridiculous request.  
„You of all people should know, that beeing a good fighter does not make one a good  
leader or a wise mentor. So there should definitely be something left for you to teach me.“  
He grinned and added: „ Or at least for Ezio since your wisdom leaves much to be  
desired.“  
The other man quirked an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth slightly quirking  
upwards, indicating the slightest of grins.  
„You think that fool of a man is going to teach you wisdom ? Minerva must have taken your  
wits in exchange for your memories.“  
„I don`t think so. But if she did that, you both are very well welcome to try to kill me.“  
His smile was playfull, but his eyes where stern and he could see, that Altair understood  
the silent question behind his words when the other man returned his gaze with matching  
sobriety.  
Shifting his attention towards Bill, he adressed another matter.  
„Bill ? Could you may contact Ezio ?“  
When the other man remained silent, he added:  
„I know you are able to contact him, so don`t lie to me because he asked you to do so.“  
His voice was tinged with the authority of all of his ancestors, who had once lead whole  
armies and whatever reply Bill had wanted to shoot at him, he was now swallowing down  
and instead switched the frequency of his radio.  
But then he handed it over to Desmond.  
„Fine, I`ll contact him. But you will have to speak with him yourself. I don`t want to deal  
with him when he`s angry. And after all, you`re the one who speaks italian.“  
Bill smirked a wolfish grin.  
„You really are an asshole Bill.“ Desmond replied teasingly when on the other side of the  
line a familiar voice answered:  
„Bill ? What`s the matter ?“  
Desmond had to suppress a predatory grin as he imitated Ezios voice perfectly and  
answered in fluent italian:  
„How are you doing Ezio ? Long time no see.“  
For a few seconds the man on the other side remained silent. Then he spoke up:  
„Is that you Desmond ? Oh wait – Damn you Altair, this isn`t funny !“  
„Oh, if I think about it, it is funny you know ?“  
This time Desmond imitated the voice of Altair Ibn la Ahad and spoke in arabic.  
„But what`s even funnier is that you don`t even recognize me !“  
He laughed, now speaking in his own mothertongue again.  
„Is that really you Desmond ? But how- ? Wh-?“  
„Just come to my place and you`ll know“, he said, the grin he had fought so hard to keep  
back now clearly visible on his face.  
„Cazzo! If this is a prank, then I`ll slice you up Altair.“  
The italian Assassin answered, then added:  
„I`ll be there in about an hour.“  
Ezio hung up and Desmond turned to hand Bill the radio back, just to see him barely able  
to keep back a laugh while Altair was definitely pissed.  
He shot a glance at the arabic Assassin, knowing from his memories, that the other man  
was only acting as if he was offended.  
This was exactly Altairs kind of humor, which he had shown during his time as a novice in  
Masyaf, where he and Malik had had a real prank war going on, that went to the extreme  
lenghts of one of the other novices being killed by a poisoned cake Malik had made and  
thus had to be ended by Al Mualim.  
He knew, and he could see, that his ancestor also knew that he knew...  
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to focus on the task at hand. There was no  
more time to waste, or was it ?  
„Altair, where`s the nearest enclave of the order ?“, he asked despite already knowing it  
from the man`s memories. But he didn`t want to disturb the others more than he already  
had by revealing the sheer amount of knowledge he now possessed.  
„Right here in Chicago, but that one`s not really suitable for our purpose. I`d suggest the  
one in the desert in Utah.“  
Shrugging, the other Assassin added:  
„But it`s quite a ride to there. Will you be able to make it ?“  
Desmond saw the silent agreement in the mans eyes.  
They both thought the same way about things like this, which was also the reason why he  
had always felt more attached to the older one of his living ancestors.  
They weren`t just nearly identical in looks, but also similar in thought and having him  
around really helped Desmond to stay calm in critical situations.  
„I think so.“, he answered the other mans question. „But we still have to wait for Ezio to  
arrive. So please, go get a little sleep, since I don`t think any of you had much of that  
tonight.“  
The others just nodded, knowing that Desmond was right.  
Lucy and Bill directly headed towards the bedroom or, in Bills case, the other sofa to get  
some sleep, but as Altair was going to do the same, he grabbed the other man by his  
shoulder to hold him back.  
„I need to talk to you.“


	6. Heart to Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where nothing happenes, but everything matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved to write this dialogue, but I'm still trying to find the right balance between Altairs caring side and his cold and dark killer-attitude.
> 
> Btw. Anyone interested in becoming my beta-reader ?

„I need to talk to you.“, Desmond quietly whispered in arabic, just in case Bill might overhear him.  
He headed out of the living room, grabbed his jacked, tossed Altair another one -   
Since they where so similar in built it would surely suit the other man – and exited the flat to climb the stairwell towards the roof.

He opened the door and stepped out into the cool, fresh air, the wind tugging at the strands of his too long hair.  
Despite the cold, he could already tell, that summer was about to come early this year.  
At first he wondered why he knew this, but then noticed that the thought had bled into him from one of his ancestors.  
He enjoyed the sight for a moment, adoring the reflections of the morning sun on the glass facades of the buildings around him. They looked as if they where on fire, burning giants threatening to collapse onto the colorful little ants that where scurrying in their shadow.  
Taking heart at that beautiful sight, he braced himself for the matter he was about to address.

„Altair.“ He didn't turn to look at the other man. Instead he continued to study the lively chaos below him.  
„Will you keep your promise ?“

The other man shifted his weight from one foot to the other but else remained silent.  
„Will you?“, he spoke up again, the now milder breeze raking through his hair.  
„I will Desmond, of course I will.“, the other man replied in a slightly unnerved tone.  
„What did you really call me up here for ?“ 

He hesitated. Did he really want to burden the other man any further ?  
He had already done so much, suffered for so long... The things he had seen in Altair's memories. They where enough to destroy anyone.  
And now he was going to shoulder even more onto the other Assassin.  
But he had to. For Lucy, for Shaun, for Rebecca, the hell even for Bill !  
No, that wasn't true. He had to be honest with himself. This decision was his own.   
He did this solely for himself.

„I want you to promise me one more thing...“ he swallowed hard. Now that he had begun, he had to get through with it.   
He finally managed to turn and look into the brown eyes that where so similar to his own.  
„Will you kill me, if I loose my memories again ?“

Immediately the sympathetic expression that Altair was giving him disappeared, as he put up his mask once more. But if he realized it or not, it was now useless against him.  
He knew, that he had hurt the other man, having felt the affection and the respect the former Assassin-Leader regarded him with himself just a few hours ago.  
The pain his request must cause the man nearly made Desmond reach out to him – until he remembered how proud Altair was.   
He would never admit to be comforted by him.

Instead he started: „I know, I shouldn't ask that of you.. The hell, I shouldn't even say that!“ He ruffled through his hair. „But being this...empty...it felt worse than being dead...“.  
Noticing, he had clenched his fingers into fists at just the thought of that, he forced them open again.  
Never in his life had he thought, that something could make him wish so deeply for his own death, but again he had been proven wrong.  
The experience of being an empty shell without a pearl, of missing the most essential thing that made him HIM. He could not bare that again. Not just for him, but also for Lucy.  
He had seen the looks she had given him, full of grief and compassion.  
He could not bare that sight again. It would destroy them both to go through this hell again.

For an endless time Altair remained silent and Desmond already feared that the other man was going to decline his request, when he finally stated: „...I will Desmond.“ A wall of unspoken words forming between them.  
Desmond knew all too well, that he'd have to explain things soon, but now wasn't the right time. And while Altair seemingly disliked his decision, he still accepted it, which was the most distinct sign of trust the man would ever show.

„Good.“ he replied, adopting his own mask again. He would have to face the others soon and they could, other than Altair, not be allowed to see his true feelings.  
Moving on to more practical matters, he asked:  
„Do you still have my bracer ?“  
„No. It was destroyed along with the one you inherited from Arden.“ At the thought of his former apprentice, he had killed while being possessed by the apple, his expression softened for a short moment.  
„But once whe're in the enclave,“ he continued,“ you'll be able to get yourself new ones.“

„No.“ Desmond replied. „I'll do it the proper way and craft them myself.“  
He smirked.  
„And besides... I want to modify a few things on them.“  
„Do you know, how to craft the needed materials ?“  
Altair raised an asking eyebrow, curious whether or not Desmond was able to do so.  
„Not yet, but something tells me, that in my long line of ancestors there has to be someone who knew how.“ He winked at the other man.  
„True enough.“ the arabic Assassin admitted.

Then they fell silent again. Everything that had to be said was said, there where no words left to be spoken and Desmond felt... somehow free.  
He just enjoyably watched the traffic running along the street below, thinking nothing, for once being no one but himself.

Then he saw a red Alfa coming down said street. So Ezio had finally arrived.


	7. The fellowship of Desmond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which initiates the main plot by a highway drive - of sorts. ^^

When Ezio had first heard Desmond's voice over the radio, he had suspected it to be one of the cruel pranks Altair executed in his few streaks of humor.  
But if it really was Desmond...  
Even if Altair would laugh at him for falling for his feint, the hope of seeing Desmond alive and well again kept him from ignoring the orders he had been given.

And so he had hastily packed his gear and some spare clothes into Sofia and had driven to Chicago.

But now, that he was standing in front of the house Desmond and Lucy lived in since the later had lost his memories, he started to doubt his previous departure.  
What if he just had been played with ?  
Damn, if this really was another prank, he'd kill the one responsible, may it be Altair or Bill, for playing him like a darned fiddle1. 

Even if he'd never admit it outright, he had developed almost brotherly feelings for the young Assassin during the time he had guided him.  
Slowly he traced over the board at the entrance with his index finger, searching for the right name.

There it was: „Mr. and Mrs. Miles“.

He wondered. When did the two of them marry ? Or was this just part of the cover Lucy and Altair had created ?  
He rung the doorbell.  
For a few seconds nothing happened, but then a voice answered over the com: „Come in Ezio, we've been waiting for you.“

Surprised the italian Assassin noticed, that it was neither Altair nor Desmond who had „invited“ him to come in.  
It sounded more like...No, he would have never come here.  
He shook his head. There was no point in questioning himself about this kind of nonsense as he would see who it was anyways after he had arrived at the flat.

He opened the door and climbed up the stairs to the second floor, where the Miles' lived.  
Just when he had reached the landing before the entrance, the door to the small apartment opened and Bill Miles of all people smiled at him.

„Devo star sognando (I must be dreaming.) ...“ Ezio murmured quietly in italian.  
„No, you're not.“ Someone answered from above, also using his mother tongue.  
He turned and looked up the stairs that led to the roof, just to see Desmond and Altair clearing the last flight above him.  
„Impossibile !“ The italian Assassin exclaimed.  
„Not quite, but we can talk about that on the way.“ The apparently alive and well man replied, now switching back to English to include everyone into their conversation.  
„Where are we heading ?“ Ezio asked, still shocked by how normal Desmond appeared.  
He looked just like he had before the complete memory loss.  
„To an enclave of the order.“ The young Assassin explained.

Now he felt even more confused than before.  
How much exactly did Desmond know about the order ? What had happened ?  
Had he regained part of his memories ? All of them ?  
Why where both, Bill and Altair already here ?  
His head was fuzzy with all those questions but Desmond, the same Desmond that he had met back at Cheyenne Mountain seemed to finally be back and he did not want to disturb this momentary state.  
It was selfish to simplify the situation that way when it could have severe consequences for Desmond, but right at the moment, he did not care.  
Even he had the right to be selfish for once after serving loyally for all those years.  
He let a grin appear on his face.  
„Sure, take the lead Master Miles.“

 

The ride was a silent one.  
No one spoke a word except Desmond and Ezio while the young man filled the italian Assassin in on the details of what had transpired.  
He himself drove the car they all sat in, focused on the dusty way that didn't deserve to be called road.

Now and then he caught a few words of their conversation, mostly Ezio reacting at the appearance of Minerva, but he tried to keep his mind focused on driving.  
They had already been nearly kicked off the road twice and he had no intention of getting himself and the others killed.  
“How long until we We're there ?” Desmond addressed him from the backseat of the van.  
“About an hour, maybe one and a half, if the old bridge in the next valley still isn't fixed.”  
“Good. Please stick to what I told you.” The other man paused to take a deep breath.  
“I know, I can't force you to obey my orders as I have no authority over you. I don't even want to do that. I can only ask you to have trust in me.”  
When Desmond had finished, the silence reclaimed the van, while everyone waited for their arrival.

He really had matured. There was no doubt that he'd become a great leader and although Altair thought that the young Assassin was keeping something from him and the others, he trusted him.   
It had been a long time he realized since someone had gained his trust so easily, but then again, Desmond's path had been all but definitely not easy up until now.

He wondered how the other Assassins at the enclave would react to Desmond, knowing that he had saved all of their lives and then had suddenly disappeared.  
In hindsight it was good that they had kept his memory loss a secret. It had motivated the younger members of the order to train harder and to try to live up to their grand hero.  
Altair grinned. No one could train hard enough to become like Desmond.  
But as long as the others believed it, there was still hope for the Order.

The Order. The arabic Assassin shifted a little in his seat.  
He had lived in this organization for all of his immortal life and therefore knew that it'd need a lot of hard work to restore it to the strong brotherhood it once had been.  
They would need to put in everything on this to be able to finally beat the Templars once and for all.

But that didn't bother Altair that much. Desmond's path had never been an easy one and he was sure that the young man was capable of leading the Order into a brighter future.  
What diverted him from driving was the sight of Desmond seemingly fully recovered and maybe even with all of his memories regained.  
No, that wasn't it. It was the fact, that Desmond knew things he shouldn't know, that he had bled him, but not his former, ancient self. He had bled him as the immortal man he was now.  
That should not be possible.  
The Animus could only grant access to memories of your ancestors until the point where they passed on their genes to the next generation.  
So how could Desmond bleed him ?  
He didn't know and that scared him.  
He would even prefer to take on Iltani a second time than to be groping in the dark like this.  
But Iltani was dead and Desmond was alive and it was good this way. He should be thankful for that, but instead he sat here and complained.  
He pinched the bridge of his nose and – as he looked back – saw Desmond do the same.  
Ezio had been right. They really where alike.  
And if Desmond was just anything like him, he had his reasons to keep certain things to himself.  
He would reveal them when the time was right.

He turned slightly to see if the road was clear and noticed, that the black van that had been following them for some time now had all but disappeared.  
“Ezio, did you notice -”, he asked the italian man in arabic.  
“I did.”, the other man replied and Altair saw his own worries reflected in the other Assassins eyes.  
“Well...Looks like I'll have to prove what I'm capable of soon.”, Desmond spoke up dryly from the backseat and pointed towards a small formation of rocks blocking the road a few meters ahead.

Neither Ezio nor Altair responded, but the later immediately switched to his eagle sense, knowing that Ezio did the same.  
His world instantly became a muted gray, but directly behind the blockade he could see a handful of red hues that symbolized enemies.  
“Seems like they'll try to ambush us.”, he said to the others.  
“Two of them will strike on the left, three on the right and six will launch a distraction directly in front of us.”, Desmond analyzed calmly which earned him suspicious glares from the others. Everyone stared at him as if he was a ghost – Or at least everyone that wasn't immortal.  
While he, judging by by their position, armament and weaponry, had come to the same conclusion, the others, who hadn't an almost infinite amount of experience to their disposal, most likely thought of this simple conclusion as disturbing.

“Most likely.” Altair agreed, then briefly looked over to Desmond. “Which kind of strategy do you propose ?”  
“You'll take care of the ones on the right. Ezio, you will take down the ones on the left. I'll handle the ones directly in front!”  
Ezio instantly opened his mouth to object, but Desmond, who had already expected this kind of reaction from the italian Assassin, cut in: “In your current condition I can't let you handle more than these two and I need Lucy and Bill o watch out for more attackers that may decide to crash the party and to protect the van.”  
The other man slowly closed his mouth in resentment to Desmond's reasoning and inclined his head.  
“You're right.” The former Master Assassin quietly replied. “I just wished I was able to help you brother.” The last words where only a whisper spoken in italian.

To his surprise, no one else wanted to complain. But he noticed that Bill was a little more serious than usual and that Lucy had a stern expression on her face which looked forced.  
Good, he thought. At least they trusted him that much.

In a way the ambush was good for Desmond. That way he could prove, that he had fully recovered and was able to take the lead again.  
To the others and even more important – to himself.

“Let's get moving then!” Desmond shouted already opening the door of the still driving van.


	8. Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there finally is some action and a cetrain someone shows, just how bad-ass he can be ^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a soundtrack to listen to while reading this chapters actionscene, I highly advise Spybreak by Propellerhead (also heard it, while writing this one, because it always reminds me of the epic fight scenes in Matrix I ^^)

Desmond felt the breeze brushing through his hair as he opened the door of the driving  
van.  
Silently, like he had done so many times in his ancestors memories, he put his hood on.  
Time for some action.  
His fingers automatically searched for the trigger of his hidden blades, but then he  
remembered, that he no longer possessed them.  
They had been destroyed along with the rest of his gear when he had destroyed the  
pieces of Eden.  
Relenting to the thought of not being fully armed, he controlled his throwing knifes and  
enabled the safety of the Walter PPK Altair had handed him previously.  
This simple routine of preparations somehow calmed him down for even if he had acted as  
if he was full of confidence in front of the others, he still didn't believe what had happened  
just a few hours ago.  
All the memories he had “regained” where still pressing upon his conscience giving him a  
burning headache.  
He knew, that his body could not comprehend with this sudden ton of information, much  
less his brain or mind.  
It was the same situation as when he had lost all his memories after using the lance.  
He should have given himself a proper rest, but then again he felt like he had wasted half  
a year resting already and felt the sudden urge to finally do something.  
They where still racing towards the barricade. He could see the red hues growing.  
His first assumption had been correct. They started to move out in exactly the same  
formation he had predicted.  
A hand touched his shoulder from behind.  
“You where right.” Ezio said. Then he handed him his second bracer. “If you won't let me  
fight with you, at least accept my help this way.” The italian Assassin smirked. “And don't  
even think about refusing this offer. It's an order. After all I'm still your superior.”  
“Thank you, brother.” Desmond nodded, returning his gesture of respect form earlier, after  
fastening the bracer around his left arm.”Though...” Now it was his turn to smirk.”You can't  
be my superior since I'm no official member of the Order.”  
The other Assassin laughed. “There are many that would share your opinion.” His  
expression got stern.”More than I would like to admit.”  
“I know.” Was the brief answer Desmond rewarded him with as they had now nearly  
reached the barricade.  
Just then Altair abruptly pulled the brakes and his momentum nearly carried Desmond out  
of the van.  
Through the cool gray of his eagle vision he could see the red hues starting to move more  
hastily.  
“Now!”, he called while calmly exiting the car.  
Nonchalantly he walked towards the six men that should have launched some kind of  
distraction but now, taken aback, where merely pointing at him with their guns.  
“So you really wanna play that game ?”, the young Assassin taunted extending his hidden  
blade while pointing at the man in front of him, who seemed to be the leader of this squad,  
with his own gun.  
The other man swallowed hard and Desmond could see a bead of sweat running out of the  
mans mask down his chin.  
Otherwise the other man did not move even an inch, but his eyes had a determined look to  
them that made clear that he'd never surrender peacefully.  
Desmond knew, that he had no other choice, but still he hesitated to just kill these men off.  
But in that brief moment of hesitation he had allowed himself, the man to his left launched  
an attack at him.  
It wasn't hard to dodge but still he was impressed at how fiercely they attacked him.  
Still close quarters combat was a bad choice when facing an Assassin. If they chose to  
take him head on, they probably didn't know who he was. Good.  
The next attacker managed to slit through his hoodie but did not draw blood.  
“Shit!”, he cursed and turned on his heels, his blade extended to slit the mans throat, but  
the other man dodged his blow while the man he had been pointing his gun at started his  
own attack.  
It was a low brawl, that would have hit his femoral artery, if successful, but he dodged it by  
jumping backwards.  
In midair he extended his hidden blade and stabbed it into the throat of the man behind  
him, then extended his jump into a back flip by using the dying mans shoulders as a  
platform and fired his gun twice, each bullet killing one soldier by giving them a head-shot.  
The three man that where left standing should have been at least a bit rattled by the  
sudden death of their comrades, but that wasn't the case.  
If anything, they seemed even more determined to take him down than before.  
Two of them now rise their rifles to fire at him, so he grabbed the body of the man he had  
just stabbed and used him as a shield.  
Every shot found his aim and he was glad the man who in dead had become his guardian,  
had worn protective gear.  
After a few seconds of soaking his “shield” with bullets the two men had to reload. He let  
go of the corpse, rise his own gun to get rid of the two... and found himself directly facing  
the man with the determined eyes.  
“Shit!” He spun away from the man firing twice, this time missing one of his targets. But he  
had no time to think about it. The other soldier may had taken cover, but the one who had  
approached him still was on his heels.  
He flickered into his eagle vision to see the other man taking cover behind a huge rock to  
his right.  
He immediately turned and ran towards the man but was held back by his other opponent  
who had foreseen what he was about to do and blocked the way, now pointing at him with  
his … hidden blade ?  
He was surprised, but this time Desmond did not give his opponent the chance to strike  
first.  
Instead he rise his gun and fired two shots, emptying his clip, but the other man had  
already taken cover, so he launched a fast upwards blow with his hidden blade which his  
opponent averted by spinning to his right, now extending his hidden blade to attempt to slit  
his throat.  
Desmond, who had somehow...seen this move coming spun around his enemy trying to hit  
his neck, but his opponent dodged his blow again by rolling away from him, so he threw  
one of his knifes after him.  
The other man caught the knife midair and threw it back at him, but in the meantime  
Desmond had already approached the man, that was now lying on the ground in front of  
him and was just about to end him with his extended hidden blade, as a movement at the  
edge of his vision caught his attention.  
The other remaining soldier had finished reloading and was now aiming at him.  
He immediately turned and ran towards the nearest rock, sliding into cover while reloading  
his own gun.  
He had to get rid of this bastard soon.  
Using the rock as a cover he flickered into his eagle vision again and aimed for the enemy  
rifleman. All right. He fired once and directly hit the man in the dead zone between his  
eyes.  
One more left to go.  
He turned again to point his gun at the last remaining soldier, but the man had already  
gotten to close to shoot, so he extended his blade and launched a blow, that was aiming  
for his opponents leg.  
It hit and Desmond saw blood dripping out of the wound, that wasn't lethal, but definitely  
would slow his opponent down, almost immediately.  
He spun around the man, dodging a few desperate brawls that weren't really dangerous  
anymore. Then he aimed for the other mans throat and extended his blade, but instead of  
flesh his blade only met cloth, his opponent having thrown back his head just in time.  
The mask the man had worn was ripped in two and Desmond directly stared into...  
Brads Face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, that Brad is an OC. He played a major role in the past, but will only be "needed" to further develop the plot here.


End file.
